Take Another Look (22 page)

“It's a lot of work, but . . .” The girl's voice broke on a sob. “But I'm a hard worker.”

“Sweet girl.” She enveloped Isabel in her arms and stroked her hair. Isabel was due for a rest—they all were. Tomorrow, when Jane met with the social worker at the hospital, she was going to suggest that Isabel stay with Harper and her through the holidays. Chrissy's illness could be an intervention of sorts, a time for Jane to advocate for Isabel and assess her needs. Besides, a little distance would probably help Chrissy and her daughter put things in perspective. This interlude might be a blessing in disguise.

 

That night at dinner, Isabel spoke of her mother with measured enthusiasm. They had dropped by the hospital, and Isabel had spent a good half hour by her mother's side.

“Mom said that it makes her feel much better knowing I'm being taken care of,” Isabel reported as she served herself a helping of broccoli.

“Did she tell you that?” Jane asked. The nurse had told Jane that Chrissy was only capable of one-word answers, but perhaps the woman was more responsive to her daughter. “See that? Even sick, your mom is thinking of you.”

“Is she getting better?” Harper asked.

“Oh, yes. She's hoping to come home in a few days.”

Again, not what Jane had heard, but she would let Isabel live in denial for now if that got her through the day.

“That's awful, to be all alone in the hospital.” Harper gave a shudder as she put her milk down. “Hospitals are terrible places. People die there.”

“Harper . . .” Jane gave her daughter a stern look. This was no time to get morbid.

“Just saying. I don't ever want to go there.”

“But you're coming with me tomorrow to visit my mom, right?” Isabel looked from Jane to Harper. “She'll be happy to have visitors.”

Harper's pleading eyes beseeched Jane to say no, but Jane simply nodded. “We'll go with you after school.”

“But tomorrow is the last day of school,” Harper whined. “I was going to the mall with my friends. You can come, too,” she told Isabel.

“My mom needs me now. And there's something else.” Isabel put her fork down, frowning. “I know this is bad timing, but I've been chosen to take care of the bio lab guinea pigs over the holiday break. I need to bring them home with me tomorrow.”

Jane put her fork down. “That is bad timing. I don't think we can have little creatures around Phoenix.”

“The thing is, I talked to Ms. Rennert, and she said it would be okay. I've taken care of Squeak and Clover before, and I would never leave them out of their habitat with Phoenix around.”

Jane twisted her napkin. Right now, the last thing they needed was another layer of chores in the house. “Isn't there someone else who can take the pigs? I'll talk to Mina. I'm sure she'll understand if—”

“But I want to take care of them,” Isabel said firmly. “There's something so reassuring, something comforting about cuddling a little bundle of fur in your arms.”

“Aaaw.” Harper was a sucker for easy affection. “Can we take the guinea pigs, Mom? I'll help Isabel take care of them. We didn't have any animals in our class this year. Environmental science is boring. Say yes, Mom. We can keep them in my room.”

Rodents for the holidays. The prospect had no appeal for Jane. Still, this wasn't about her; she was responsible for two young women who deserved a say in their lives. The sight of Phoenix sleeping in her bed by the door gave Jane the final push. The golden retriever was obedient, and she had mellowed with age. Besides, it would help Isabel to manage some aspects of her life, allowing her to be more accepting of the things beyond her control. In the end, Jane gave in. “We'll make it work.”

 

That night Jane was awakened by a call from the hospital. Christine had taken a turn for the worse . . . another attack . . . on a respirator . . . touch and go.

“Should we come to see her now?” Groggy and still half asleep, Jane was unable to weigh the tenor of the call.

Not now, but tomorrow. Bring Isabel. Prepare the girl.

“I'll take care of it,” Jane promised, not sure what that really meant. Was she supposed to warn Isabel that her mother was dying? Murky images of Chrissy's face and the wispy groan of a breathing machine kept popping through her dreams as Jane fell back into a disjointed slumber.

At breakfast, Isabel took the news in stride. Of course, she did; the girl had been down this road countless times. Jane hugged her and told her everything would work out.

It was a nonsense day at school. Jane had her classes read an excerpt from Charles Dickens's
A Christmas Carol,
which she used as a prompt for a brief essay on what the student would change if, like Scrooge, he could take another look at his life. Rebirth and a second chance . . . The holidays always brought Jane hope, though this year it was tempered with worry over Chrissy's illness.

The final bell had Jane scurrying to the bio lab, where Isabel and Harper had assembled along with a dozen other students. Mina was handing off animals as if she were closing a pet shop. Sand crabs and mice. A ferret and a small boa constrictor that had been found living in the school's ventilation system. Somehow, Mina's classroom had become the shelter for all creatures, furred and scaly.

At least we didn't get the snake,
Jane thought as she pushed the elaborate guinea-pig habitat on a cart down the science corridor. Harper and Isabel each had a guinea pig cradled in their arms, one black-and-white and one more of a caramel and white. Mounds of fur with fat faces at one end, twitching noses, and beady eyes.
Please, God, let Phoenix recognize they are not squeaky toys.

At home they quickly set up the crates in Harper's bedroom as Isabel narrated instructions on the animals' care and feeding. Their cages were to be cleaned once a day, and they would need floor time and plenty of human interaction. A guinea pig could die of loneliness, she told them, prompting a soft cooing noise from Harper as she hugged Squeak to her heart. Change their water. Keep them indoors. Never leave them out around the dog. Keep the bedroom door closed at all times. Make sure they have access to fresh water and grass hay 24/7.

With Isabel well versed in guinea-pig protocol, Jane felt confident that their visit would go smoothly. Once the pigs were securely ensconced, they headed off to the hospital, where Isabel led the way to the intensive care unit, forging ahead through corridors clogged with personnel, wheelchairs, and carts. So brave. By contrast, Harper plodded along with slumped shoulders.

“Come on, honey,” Jane prodded her. “We don't want to lose you.”

“This is creepy.” Harper folded her arms across her chest, scowling. “All these old, sick people. I don't want to be here.”

“Do it for your sister. She could use your support.”

Although Harper steeled herself and stopped shuffling, when they stepped into Chrissy's bay of the intensive care ward, the girl imploded.

“Mom!” Harper hissed as her eyes grew wide in horror. “She looks like she's dead!”

“Harper!” Jane rasped. “Quiet.” Although Jane was embarrassed by Harper's blatant reaction, Chrissy's shell of a body was unrecognizable beneath the mask, tape, and tubes. Her skin tone rivaled the color of the slate sky outside, and the terrible hiss of the breathing apparatus brought Jane back to the disorientation of her morning nightmares.

“Oh, Mama-dear.” Unfazed, Isabel went right up to the bed and put her hand over Chrissy's. “I'm here, Mom. Can you hear me? We all came to see you. Ms. Ryan is here, and Harper, too.”

There was no movement on Chrissy's face, no shimmer of recognition. In a flash of alarm, Jane wondered if Chrissy was really dying, but Jane shoved the thought away in an attempt to stay positive.

Harper's eyes were round as quarters, and she stared in horror. “I—I can't do this.” She turned and hurried out of the room.

“Sorry,” Jane said quietly. She had hoped that Harper would stay by her sister while Jane met with the social worker. “Harper has never been in a hospital before.”

“She's lucky,” Isabel said without looking up from the bed. “But we know the drill, right, Mom?”

Jane hung back for a few minutes while Isabel chatted on. It seemed to bring her a measure of peace to sit with her mother and stroke her arm, talking to her in a soft voice. Jane left them together and went outside to check on Harper.

“I can't stay in there with a dead body.” Harper leaned against the shiny tiled wall, shivering and shocked. “Please don't make me go back in, Mom.”

“It's okay, Hoppy.” Jane took her into her arms, imagining the chasm between them shrinking to nothing as they embraced. “I know it's hard to see someone in that condition. Why don't you come with me upstairs. I've got to meet with the social worker.”

“But I don't want to leave Isabel.” When Harper leaned away from Jane's embrace, tears shimmered in her stormy blue eyes. “I'm going to wait in one of those chairs by the elevator. That way, if she needs me, I'll be close by.”

“That's a great idea.” Squeezing her daughter's shoulder, Jane realized she didn't always give Harper enough credit.

Upstairs in a small office cubicle, Sally Pinero explained how the department of social services would try to manage Christine Zaretsky's illness. “Her next of kin is very interested in her condition. Anya Diamant. She's been calling and checking in every few hours.”

“That's good to know,” Jane said. “I'll make sure that Isabel gets in touch with her aunt today.”

“And I see you've been designated as the child's guardian if anything should happen to Mrs. Zaretsky.”

Something twisted in Jane's chest. “I have?”

“Isabel brought me the paperwork yesterday.” The social worker opened a folder and removed a document. Some sort of boilerplate contract. “It's wonderful that Christine Zaretsky has all these things in order. I can't tell you how many people come in here without any sort of will or advance directives. It becomes a legal quagmire for their families. But Mrs. Zaretsky laid everything out clearly. Isabel told me she's very happy staying with you. I trust that this living arrangement will work for an extended time if need be?”

“Yes, of course.” Jane answered before she had time to process the news. She was Isabel's guardian? It did help explain why the staff had been so accommodating to her, allowing access to Chrissy despite the fact that Jane was nothing more than a caretaker of Chrissy's daughter. But what about the long haul? Given the worst-case scenario, Jane was not prepared to keep Isabel. “What about Chrissy's sister, Anya?” Jane said. “I always thought, if something did happen to Chrissy, that Anya would take Isabel in.”

“I don't think so.” Sally leafed through the file, shaking her head. “No,” she said firmly. “The child's mother has clearly designated you to be the guardian.”

Really? She wondered what Chrissy's rationale was, signing her daughter over to someone who had been a virtual stranger until a few months ago. Was this simply because Jane had been Isabel's birth mother?

“And just so you know, if you were to become Isabel's guardian, money won't be an issue. Mrs. Zaretsky has set aside a sizable trust fund to make sure that Isabel is well cared for.”

“That's good to know,” Jane said, “but I hope it never comes to that.”

“We hope for the best.” Ms. Pinero's smile was tight, her lips shiny with red gloss. Sort of clownish and depressing. When they finished their discussion, Jane was relieved to slip out of the office, away from contracts that hinged on death and designated the way a life would be led.

Later, as they walked out of the hospital, Jane noticed the way Harper's entire body seemed to blossom and rise when they made it to the safety of the parking garage. “How'd your meeting go, Mom?” she asked.

“That's right. You met Ms. Pinero?” Isabel seemed cheerful, and Jane admired her strength of spirit.

“I did. She told me that your Aunt Anya is very concerned about your mother.”

“Of course,” Isabel said. “They're sisters. And she told you about Mom's plans?”

Jane wasn't ready to bring it up in front of Harper, but she nodded. “Yes. It seems your mother would want you to be staying with us now, while she's sick.” Jane didn't dare speculate any farther down the road; it seemed morbid, even creepy.

“And I'm so grateful to be staying with people I love.” Isabel slung an arm over Harper's shoulder, and the two girls rested their heads together so that Isabel's pink beret touched Harper's black skullcap. “My dad was right when he said that family is everything.”

In sickness and in health,
Jane thought as she started the car and drove off into the gathering dusk.

Chapter 23

E
veryone slept in for a lazy Saturday morning. When Jane came downstairs at nine, a layer of frost still clung to the back lawn and the north side of the Tullys' roof. She made a quick cup of coffee and let the dog out back. Hugging her mug, she laughed out loud at the sight of Phoenix treading cautiously over the frozen grass before doing her business and coming back inside.

“Ah,” Jane sighed, wiggling her toes in her slippers. Nothing like the first day of Christmas break to sleep in.

Soon Harper was downstairs in her flannel pajamas and fluffy slippers. One of the guinea pigs huddled in the crook of her arm.

“Good morning,” Jane said brightly. “Is that Squeak or Clover?”

“Clover. Remember? The
C
is for caramel color.”

“Right. How'd you sleep? Are the pigs noisy at night?”

“They're fine.” Harper crouched down and released Clover to the kitchen floor. “It's playtime!”

“Are you sure about that?” Jane glanced over to the living room, where Phoenix was licking her paws in the dog bed by the French doors. “I thought you weren't supposed to release them around a dog.”

“Mom, you know Phee would never hurt one of these guys. Besides, we'll be here to keep watch. Careful you don't step on her, Mom.” Harper lowered herself to the floor, stretching out on one side so that her body formed a protective curve around the guinea pig, which now stood frozen like a stuffed animal. “What's wrong, Clover?”

The creature's nose twitched, and then Clover moved on, leaving droppings behind. “She pooped,” Harper reported. “Right on the kitchen floor.”

“Oh, joy.” Jane stood her ground as Phoenix, most likely roused by the pig's scent, appeared in the kitchen. A moan squeezed from Phoenix's throat as she sniffed the floor, following Clover's trail.

“No, Phoenix.” Harper gripped the dog's collar to hold her back.

“Let's see what she does.” Jane kneeled on the floor beside the dog. She sensed no aggression in Phoenix's stance, but she stayed close, just in case.

Meticulously, the dog sniffed along behind the guinea pig, paused at the feces pellets, and lapped them up in one fell swoop.

“Oh my God, that's hilarious!” Laughter bubbled out of Harper, and Jane smiled, mostly at her daughter's colossal amusement. For the next half hour they watched intently as Phoenix befriended the guinea pig, nudging her with her nose and licking the guinea pig's fur as if she were a pup. The tenderness between the two of them struck a chord in Jane; it was as if Phee had found her long-lost child.

Isabel appeared, tugging the pink ribbon on her flowered nightgown. “What are you guys doing? We're supposed to keep the pigs away from the dog.”

“But Phoenix loves Clover,” Harper said. “You have to see this. Phee was grooming her as if she were Phoenix's very own baby.”

“That's sweet, but Clover and Squeak are my responsibility, Harper. You should have asked me first.” Isabel's mouth puckered in annoyance.

“Isabel's right,” Jane admitted. “We should have asked you first, honey. But now that these two have connected, there's no splitting them apart. I know we have to keep an eye on Phee at all times, and we will, but this is a love affair that needs to be filmed.”

“I'll get my cell phone,” Harper said, tearing off.

Isabel watched, softening. “They are cute together. I'm going to get Squeak. I bet he's lonely upstairs, all alone.” Isabel dashed up the stairs and returned with the black-and-white guinea pig. Jane showed her how to introduce them slowly, and within a few minutes Phoenix had flopped on the kitchen floor with Clover snuggled in the crook of her foreleg while Squeak sat munching a baby carrot near the dog's muzzle.

Jane sat cross-legged with her second cup of coffee, thoroughly entertained.

 

A few days later as Jane followed Isabel on the well-worn path to the intensive care unit, she wondered if this would be the pattern of the holiday break. Drop Harper off at a basketball practice or a friend's house while she and Isabel paid their respects to Chrissy, semiconscious and unresponsive. The doctors' reports of slight improvements always seemed to be followed by new episodes of heart arrhythmia and respiratory distress. It had to be upsetting for Isabel to see her mother suffer that way, but the girl maintained a positive attitude. Jane hoped that Chrissy sensed the deep faith her daughter had in her recovery.

Up ahead Isabel was talking with the nurse, a tall, rangy man with a receding hairline and large, square teeth. He went behind the desk to check the computer, then shrugged and leaned over the desk, as if to appeal to Isabel on her own level.

But the girl was visibly upset.

“What's the matter?” Jane asked.

Isabel spread her arms wide. “She's gone. They transferred her,” she said indignantly.

“To another ward?” Jane turned to the nurse. “That's good news, right? She's out of intensive care.”

He shook his head. “Mrs. Zaretsky was transferred to another hospital. She was taken away by ambulance late this morning.”

“And no one told me? I'm her daughter. Why didn't you tell me? I would have come earlier to say good-bye.” Isabel's eyes were filling with tears.

“She's right,” Jane agreed with a reassuring hand on Isabel's shoulder. “And where was Chrissy sent?” To a specialty facility . . . or a nursing home?

“All that I know is that the ambulance was headed north to the Seattle area.”

“So that Mrs. Zaretsky could be closer to her sister?” Jane asked.

He held up his hands. “Look, I'm sorry, but that's all I know. You need to talk to an administrator upstairs.”

It was painful to usher Isabel upstairs to the admin offices, but Jane didn't see any other choice. She herself had no claim to information about Christine Zaretsky, but Isabel was Christine's daughter, and she deserved to be kept informed.

Up in the admin offices, it took forever to sort through the situation. Two days before Christmas, one could not expect the hospital to be fully staffed. While they waited, Jane had to negotiate a ride home for Harper and an agreement to let Harper have Jesse over as long as they stayed downstairs. “Of course we will,” Harper snapped over the phone. “God, Mom, you have a sick mind. Don't ever say something like that in front of Jesse.”

Sometimes life came at you from all sides. Jane closed her eyes and leaned back in the molded plastic chair of the waiting area. This was not worth picking a battle over; she let the comment slide past and told Harper she would be home soon. Maybe that would keep Harper and her boyfriend on their toes.

It took a while to locate the one social worker on duty, and then he needed some time to get up to speed on the case. Timber Ellsberg, a thirtyish man with receding hair balanced by his well-trimmed beard, was slow but sweet in that blackstrap molasses manner of native Oregonians.

“I just got off the phone with my colleague Sally,” he said. “It's her day off, but I wanted to reach out to her because I've never handled a case like this. Neither has she. There have been plenty of times when we were unable to give out medical information to concerned individuals. But in this case, with a minor who is a dependent, it opens up a whole new can of worms.”

“I can imagine,” Jane said. “But the young lady waiting out there is concerned for her mother. Isn't she entitled to know the medical status and whereabouts of her mother? She came to the hospital today for a visit, and found her mother gone. Apparently hours away.”

“Sorry about that. You're right. We dropped the ball on this. We should have notified Isabel that her mom was being transferred, but Sally thought the girl was in touch with her aunt, and none of us expected Mrs. Zaretsky to be moved so soon. None of these are good excuses, I know. Simply explanations.”

“We've tried to get in touch with Isabel's aunt. I called her twice, but haven't heard back from her.”

He tugged on the diamond stud in one ear. “I can't speak for Ms. Diamant, but I am authorized to give you some information.” Nervously working the cuticle of her thumbnail, Jane listened as he told her that Chrissy was still in stable condition. The patient had been transferred to a private hospital outside Seattle that specialized in gastrointestinal disease. As Isabel's guardian, Jane would be able to receive updates from the Cottage Hospital once Chrissy was evaluated there.

“Will we be able to see her if we take a drive up there?” Jane asked. The trip might be a possibility after Christmas.

“You would need to check on their visiting hours and such,” he said. “But I wouldn't just jump in the car and head up there.”

“No, not a good idea.” She squinted at him. “Are we being kept away from Chrissy Zaretsky?”

An awkward smile froze on his face as he looked away from his computer monitor. “I really can't say. But I've seen it happen before. Especially in cases where a wealthy patient is seriously ill. Relatives close in, vying for their inheritance. Not a pretty sight.”

Jane winced. “Please tell me that's not the case here. Really? Is that why Anya Diamant isn't answering my call? Does she think she's going to cut Chrissy's daughter out of her inheritance?” It didn't seem likely. Jane suspected that other members of the Zaretsky family had their own financial resources, as she recalled that Chrissy and Anya's father had been an executive for an international oil company. Still, money was a strange motivator.

“I can't say what Ms. Diamant is thinking. Maybe she's simply focused on finding the best treatment facility for her sister.”

“I hope so. This is very new territory for me, and frankly, I never signed up to be anyone's guardian, temporary or otherwise. But right now, I'm all that girl has, and I won't let Anya Diamant cut Isabel off from her mother.”

“I wouldn't expect you to.” This time his smile was earnest. “I'd say she's lucky to have you as an advocate.”

“Well, the jury's out on that,” Jane said as she rose and hitched her bag up on her shoulder. “And right now I have to explain to that girl outside why she can't see her mother until after Christmas. Got any pointers on that?”

“The truth always works for me.”

As Jane headed out to retrieve Isabel, she realized she didn't know the precise truth of the situation. What was Anya's intention, transferring Chrissy to Seattle? Why wasn't the woman returning her or Isabel's calls? She discussed the situation with Isabel and promised to keep trying to contact Anya. Isabel explained that she had never been particularly close to her mother's sister. When Jane offered to drive Isabel up to visit her mother as soon as they got clearance from Cottage Hospital, Isabel demurred, insisting that she didn't want to disrupt the family's holiday.

At home, Isabel seemed to take the new development in stride as she explained the situation to Harper and Jesse.

“The good news is that I get to spend Christmas with you,” Isabel said.

“I guess so,” Harper said cheerfully.

“That's cool.” Jesse dug his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “But I hope your mom feels better soon.”

“Thanks. I think about her all the time,” Isabel said, running her fingertips over the piping of the sofa. “This time of year, when school was out, we did so many fun things together. . . .”

Leaving the three kids to talk, Jane went upstairs to work on the laundry. She was hoping to wrap some gifts this evening and bake one more batch of cookies.

“Mom?” Harper found her in her bedroom, folding the mound of clothes on her bed. “How long is Isabel going to stay?”

“I don't know, Hoppy. I've agreed to take care of her until her mother is better.”

“But when will that be?” she whined.

“Harper, come on. I don't have the answer to that, and we are the only family Isabel has right now. You've done a great job making her feel at home so far. I'm proud of you. Keep up the good work.”

“But I want my room back.” Harper sank onto the bed, yanking a shirt out from under her. “All my stuff disappears when she's here, and then she makes a big deal when she finds it. And she's always around.”

“That made you happy a few days ago.”

“She stares at me while I'm sleeping.”

“Really? Does she stay up all night and stare at you?”

“You're missing the point. It's creepy.”

“Turn toward the wall. Isabel adores you.” Jane plopped down beside Harper and pulled her close. “Come on, old Scrooge. What happened to your Christmas spirit? The season of goodwill and generosity?”

Harper's lower lip puffed out. “I want Christmas the usual way. Just you and me. Family tradition.”

“We're extending our hearts and home this year,” Jane said. “We already decided to include Luke. It'll be fun, having someone your age around.”

In answer, Harper simply pressed her head to Jane's shoulder.

“I love you, too. But I'm also excited about opening our family to others. Change is hard, but down the road, you'll be glad you made the sacrifice.”

Harper let out a huge sigh. “Fine.”